


so i will see you for the first time

by notfirewoodyet



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Identity Issues, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, emotions are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfirewoodyet/pseuds/notfirewoodyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s as though his life started when he was yanked out of that glorified freezer the last time.  Maybe his brain had finally had enough.  It could only take so many wipes before it just shattered and refused to try anymore.  </p>
<p>Now it was up to Bucky to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so i will see you for the first time

“Hey, um, uh Bucky, do you uh need anything else,” Steve stammers from the doorway of his extra bedroom. Bucky continues to stare holes into the bed sheets and gives Steve an imperceptible shake of his head.

“Okay, well uh if you need anything at all just come let me know, alright? Buck?” Bucky doesn’t even acknowledge him this time, so Steve shuffles away, presumably to his own bedroom, pausing along the way as if he’s not sure if he should leave Bucky alone or not.

Bucky closes the door to the bedroom, and sinks down onto the mattress willing sleep to come and overtake him. He’s just so tired, and he’s so fucking tired of being tired. 

It had been four months since the helicarrier over the Potomac had exploded, and Hydra went right along with it, scrambling to put themselves back together again. Four months since Bucky had jumped from safehouse to safehouse, avoiding the clutches of Hydra and the Americans alike. Four months of Steve chasing him all across the country, Bucky finally relenting to his pleas, and following the Captain back to Washington, D.C. and into his home where Steve had promised over and over again that Bucky would be safe.

Bucky was just tired of the confusion, of memories brushing right up against the surface, but refusing to crack through, and Steve was apparently the only one who could help piece together some semblance of an identity. He still couldn’t reconcile himself with the James Buchanan Barnes of Steve’s memories, regardless of how many times Steve told him they were the same person, but he let the Captain call him Bucky, because hey, at least it was a start. Something to call his own, even if it was just a name he couldn’t remember. 

He could hear Steve in the other room tossing and turning, rustling the sheets with each twitch he made. Bucky wondered if Steve was just restless or maybe he was entertaining a particularly vivid nightmare. Bucky didn’t have to deal with nightmares, he didn’t even dream. He assumed that wasn’t normal, and neither was having only four months worth of solid memories. He got flashes sometimes, but nothing really stuck. They didn’t incite any reaction in him. It was as if he was watching some morphed slideshow of the life he used to have. He had flesh memory and basic instinct to guide him through everyday life, but that was all. Nothing that really constituted being a person rather than just a human being.

He remembered nothing from his past as James Buchanan Barnes, and nothing from his time as the Winter Soldier. It’s as though his life started when he was yanked out of that glorified freezer the last time. Maybe his brain had finally had enough. It could only take so many wipes before it just shattered and refused to try anymore. Now it was up to Bucky to pick up the pieces.

\----------

“Tell me,” demanded Bucky, leaning his hip against the entrance of the kitchen as he watched Steve’s spoon clatter into his soggy cereal that he had obviously spent more time moving around than actually eating. 

“Tell you what?” Steve choked out, while he regained his composure. “Tell me about James, what he was like. Tell me about you and James,” Bucky replied.

Steve scrubbed his hand on the back of his neck then down his face as though this was more than he could handle delving into at 7 o’clock in the morning. “He was my best friend,” Steve finally said, and Bucky gave a small nod because he already knew this. It was Steve’s mantra at this point. “We met when we were just kids at the orphanage, and Bucky decided to look after me when he saw me being thrown into a wall for the sixth time in the same week. Every time I asked why he decided to protect the new kid, he would just shrug his shoulders and say, ‘beats me punk,’ but I knew why. He had a good heart. He never believed that, but I did,” Steve said, leveling Bucky with a pointed look.

Bucky sauntered over to the kitchen table and took a seat across from Steve willing him to go on. He needed to hear this. He needed to know if Steve telling him these things would help get his memories back, and make them sharper and more focused rather than the static he was dealing with right now. He wanted to remember.

“When we finally aged out of the orphanage we got our own place together, and we continued like we always did. He took care of me, and I took care of him. It was second nature at that point. It was tough, but we made it through. Then the war happened, and this happened,” Steve said as he gestured towards his towering frame, “and we still kept on protecting each other.” Steve laid a shaking hand on the table wanting to reach out to Bucky, but not knowing if that would be welcomed or not. “I’m so sorry Buck. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t…I couldn’t…I’m sorry,” Steve choked out with glistening eyes boring holes into Bucky willing him to understand something, but Bucky wasn’t sure what.

Emotions were still unfamiliar territory to Bucky. He didn’t understand them. Hydra had stripped him of them all. He knew that. He couldn’t do his job if they hadn’t. All Bucky could feel at this point was confusion with a good amount of frustration thrown in, and that was enough to weigh him down. He couldn’t imagine feeling everything that Steve felt. It just seemed pointless. Did human beings like to suffer? He could only assume he had enough of that for one lifetime.

“I can’t remember anything Steve. Looking at James’ face in the Smithsonian didn’t help, walking around your exhibit didn’t help, your stories don’t help. I’m trying to remember, I just can’t,” Bucky said, wondering if he should throw in an “I’m sorry,” but he didn’t feel like he had to. It wasn’t his fault Hydra used his brain to practice some seriously fucked up abstract art, and let him loose on the world.

“I just need you to understand that there’s a good chance the Bucky you knew will never come back, and the memories you both shared are just yours now.” Bucky was aware he sounded harsh, maybe even a tad bit cruel if the way Steve flinched at his words was any indication, but Steve needed to understand the truth of the situation, and not hold on to the hope that his friend will return to him as he remembered. “I want you to know that, and then I want you to think if this is all worth it to you. Me being here, you helping me. Do you still want that?”

“Of course I do,” Steve replied without a second of hesitation. “Really?” Bucky said in his usual cool tone. “Me having your friend’s face, but none of what made him who he was is enough for you?”

“Look Bucky, I can accept that you’ll never get your memories back, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you that my reasons for helping you are coming from a completely selfless place, but no one deserves what happened to you, and I would like to help you in any way I can. I can get to know you, and you can get to know me. Would you like to try?” Steve said with barely muted hope.

“Okay.”

\----------

In the months that follow, Bucky learns that Steve dislikes all kinds of berries, country music, the color brown, and being cold. Steve likes frapuccinos from Starbucks, and orders extra whip cream each time, the smell of rain, James Joyce stories and poetry, and any “it’s so bad, it’s good” movies he can get his hands on. 

Bucky finds out that he dislikes peanut butter, the sound of fingernails scratching across jeans, reality television, and tofu. He likes M&Ms, Dr. Seuss books, the sound of the subway rattling under his feet, and the smell of fresh bagels. It all seems very mundane, but Bucky likes it. He likes having things to call his own. 

For the most part they’ve managed to navigate their way, cautiously, around the whole getting to know each other mission they both agreed to, but he can tell Steve wants more. Steve trips up sometimes with shit like, “Remember when we” or “You used to,” but Bucky can’t really blame him. Bucky’s the one with the fucked up brain, not Steve, and he can’t expect him to suddenly forget decades of memories and start off on a blank slate. 

Steve looks at Bucky sometimes like he wants something else from him rather than too short conversations and silent walks around the city. Whether he wants him to act more like a real friend, or just more, Bucky doesn’t know, but it’s not something he’s able to give. It’s been almost three months since he walked past Steve’s threshold, and he can’t remember a damn thing.

He sees the way Steve acts with Sam Wilson with his kind eyes and endless repertoire of sarcastic quips. It’s playful shoving, and easy laughs, and silent conversations that pass between them that seem to mean everything. It’s solid hugs, and arms around shoulders, and a sort of trust that goes way beyond anything Bucky can understand. He wants to be able to give that to Steve, because regardless of all the starts and stops and dancing around each other he and Steve have been doing, he recognizes that Steve is a good person. He might be the best person Bucky has ever met, even if his frame of reference is somewhat limited. So, yes, Bucky wants to give Steve that easy friendship, but he just can’t. He couldn’t even begin to know how.

\----------

They’re both lying on the couch reading their respective books listening to the sounds from the street below. They’ve been doing this all day, and the only times they get up is to either go to the bathroom or grab a snack from the kitchen when the rumbling of their stomachs becomes too much, but Steve says you’re supposed to be lazy on Sundays, “it’s just the law of the universe, Buck,” Steve had said with a chuckle. Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes on him, so he lifts his head a bit and sends a small smile in Steve’s direction, and Steve gives him a blinding one in return. It had been happening more often lately. Bucky smiling at Steve because he wanted to, and Steve looking at him as if he had harnessed the sun in his smirk. Another thing that had been happening more often is Steve looking at him longer than he used to. He pretends not to notice, for Steve’s sake or his own he’s not sure, but Bucky thinks it’s easier this way. But lately he’s caught himself giving the same looks to Steve when Bucky’s satisfied he’s not watching.

He hears Steve clear his throat and sees him shake his head slightly before heading towards the kitchen. He should let Steve go, and let him get whatever he needs to under control, but Bucky wants to try something. He needs to know.

With a determined stride, he walks over to the kitchen and sees Steve leaning against the counter, silently sipping from a glass of water. Before his courage fails him, he heads over to Steve and boxes him in against the counter with a hand on each side of his waist.

“Bucky, what are you,” Steve stumbles out, but Bucky just shakes his head and says, “Can I just…please?” He’s pretty sure Steve doesn’t know what he’s asking, given that he didn’t actually say anything, but Steve nods his head anyway.

Bucky lifts his right hand off the counter, deciding to start with flesh rather than metal, and slowly raises his hand to Steve’s cheek. Steve’s eyelids flutter shut slightly and he inhales a sharp breath. Bucky thinks about pulling his hand away, but Steve hasn’t moved away, so he’s guessing, hoping, this is okay.

He brushes his thumb across Steve’s cheekbone, traces it towards his jawline and then down his throat. Steve lets out a soft, breathy moan, and Bucky’s not imagining the heat in Steve’s gaze. Encouraged by the reaction, he moves his left hand to grip Steve’s waist, and continues his ministrations. 

Bucky uses his index finger to drag along the strong line of Steve’s nose, then switches back to his thumb to trace along Steve’s bottom lip. Steve is gripping the counter so hard, Bucky’s a little worried it’s gonna crack under the pressure, but Steve understands that Bucky is doing this for himself more than he’s doing it for Steve, trying to figure out whatever it is he’s trying to figure out, so he continues to let Bucky lead the way.

Bucky moves his body until he’s flush against Steve, and drags his right hand to the back of Steve’s neck, scratching at the short hairs at his nape. He moves his forehead to rest against Steve’s temple, and breathes for a few seconds because this is doing just as much for him as it’s clearly doing for Steve. Then, Bucky places soft, barely there kisses to the corner of Steve’s eye, his cheekbone, his neck, and finally the bridge of his nose, before resting their foreheads together, and dragging his hand down Steve’s chest before resting it on his waist.

They’re both breathing hard, but neither of them are willing to move. Steve’s probably afraid of disrupting whatever is happening between them, but Bucky’s trying to get his cartwheeling thoughts under control. 

Bucky lifts his forehead from Steve’s, but keeps his tight grip on his waist. “Before, did you and Bucky…were you and he…you weren’t just friends were you?” Bucky finally asks, because that’s what he was trying to figure out. After weeks of trying to decipher what Steve’s looks meant, he thinks he finally got his answer.

“No, we weren’t just friends,” Steve replies with some hesitation. Bucky nods once, removes his hands from Steve’s waist, and heads towards his room, closing the door with finality, leaving a very confused Steve in the kitchen.

\----------

The next day, it’s instantly clear that Steve is walking on eggshells anytime he comes within 3 feet of Bucky, so Bucky just leaves the apartment, announcing he was going to take a walk, ignoring Steve’s half-hearted offer to join him.

He ends up wandering towards the park closest to Steve’s apartment, and plants himself on the first bench he sees with a heavy sigh. Bucky doesn’t regret his little experiment with Steve last night, but he’s not sure he ever would have done it if he knew what a mess his head would become.

He usually resorted to logic to help him figure out, anything and everything really, because he truly believed it was the best way. Logically, he could say he began to really trust Steve in the almost three months that they’ve been living together because Steve had trusted him even when he shouldn’t have. Trust leads to trust, simple. Logically, he could say Steve is a very attractive man. He has symmetrical features, kind, blue eyes, perfect teeth that lend to a charming smile, and a physique others could only dream about. All these traits lead to a physically attractive person, and given the multitudes of appreciative glances Steve always receives when they went out together, Bucky knows he isn’t the only one, so that’s simple. Logically, he knows Steve and he are becoming friends in their own right. They have shared interests, they even share a sense of humor which Bucky found surprising, mainly because he discovered he had a sense of humor, and they respect each other. Simple.

But logic can’t explain the pull in his gut when he sees Steve lately, or his desire to want to go further with Steve than what they did last night, or the fond smile he gets on his face when Steve lets out a dorky laugh whenever he’s trading barbs with Sam, or how Steve immediately pops into his head whenever Bucky sees something he knows he would like, or this overwhelming need to protect Steve from everything and everyone.

Damn, maybe if he weren’t so fucked in the head he could figure all this out like a normal person without having a fucking existential crisis on a park bench. Maybe, he just doesn’t want to admit what he thinks it could be because he’s afraid to feel it. It could be that he’s on his way to being a little bit, sort of, in love with Steve Rogers, and that scares the shit out of him more than anything else ever could.

Love. It’s the first thing Hydra stripped out of Bucky when they were molding him into their perfect soldier. It had to be. Bucky thinks love is what could have hindered his efficiency more than anything else, because in his experience love causes people the most damage. 

He’s heard the next door neighbors having a screaming match at two in the morning at least once a month, which usually ends with one of them storming out of the apartment demanding a divorce. He’s seen children on playgrounds laughing loudly, hugging each other tight, and holding hands as they race towards the seesaw, only to see those same children push each other around and yell in each other’s faces because “I wanted to play with that first!” He’s even witnessed husbands and wives, daughters and sons, brothers and sisters, staring silently at a headstone with shaky sighs and even shakier hands praying to whoever’s listening to give them at least one more day together. 

But, then again, he’s also seen the joy that comes to someone’s face when they reunite with a loved one after months or years of not seeing each other, gripping the other so tightly, it’s as if they want to fuse together. He’s seen couples walking hand in hand around the city sharing stolen glances and private smiles meant only for the two of them. He’s seen small boys and girls running towards their parents with uncontrollable limbs to be scooped up in their parent’s arms after a long day at school.

And maybe that’s why people do it. Because even if a couple does get divorced, they had years where they loved each other fiercely. Because even if it’s inevitable that death will happen, it’s the living that matters. The good and the bad aren’t mutually exclusive, and you can only hope that the good outweighs the bad.

Well fuck.

\----------

When Bucky returns to the apartment, Steve is failing miserably at pretending he wasn’t waiting for Bucky to come home, if him scrambling towards the sofa and picking up his half-opened book upside down when Bucky comes into the living room is any indication.

“Hey Bucky, did you, uh, have a nice walk?” Steve says, trying to sound aloof.

“I did actually. Figured out some stuff,” Bucky responds hesitantly. “I had a bit of an epiphany I guess you could say.”

“Look Bucky, I really hope what happened last night didn’t make anything weird between us. I love having you here, and I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable, so we can just forget it okay?” Steve rushes out. “Yes, we were more than friends once, but if that’s all we’ll ever be now, I’m okay with that. I really am. I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, you know? I know you’re not the same Bucky I knew, and I don’t want you to feel like you owe me something.”

“Are you done?” Bucky says jokingly before Steve can continue his mini-rant. “Nothing is weird between us Steve, and trust me, I don’t feel like I owe you anything, well anything more than being here and trying every day because you’re trying too. I asked you if you and he were more than friends, because I wanted to know. Me. That was my choice, so don’t feel bad about telling me the truth, okay?”

Steve gives a small nod, and says, “So, you said you had an epiphany?”

Bucky strides over to Steve, places his hands on either side of his face, and plants a firm kiss on Steve’s gaping mouth. Once Steve stops floundering like a fish, he responds in kind. It’s nothing more than a press of lips against lips, but Bucky is hoping it turns into a more, oh he’s hoping it does.

When he pulls back, Steve is gripping his waist tightly, probably to make up for what he couldn’t do yesterday, and looking at him with wide, questioning eyes. “Steve, before I say what I’m about to say, I just want you to understand that this isn’t easy for me. You know me and emotions. I kind of suck at them, but I figured something out today. Now, I’m not saying I’m in love with you, because I think that’s going to take me a while. It’s just hard for me to work up to that point, but I think, it’s very possible, and I’m almost absolutely sure, that you could say I’m halfway in love with you already, and I have no idea when the hell that happened, but here we are.”

Bucky is looking at Steve, silently begging him to say something, but not much is happening in the way of words. “Steve, right now would be a good time for you to say something, or you know, have any kind of reaction at all other than blank staring.”

Steve surges forward, gripping the back of Bucky’s head hard, and coaxing his mouth open for a deep kiss. The things Steve is doing with his tongue are absolutely sinful, and the kiss is starting to border on painful, probably due to Steve’s pent up feelings, but Bucky thinks that he needs this. He wants to feel this. For once he wants to feel everything.

Steve finally pulls back when air becomes a necessity, but his hands remained tangled in Bucky’s hair. “I am so in love with you, god Buck, I never stopped,” he says breathing hard and running his fingers gently over Bucky’s face, as though he’s seeing him for the first time, and maybe he is.

Bucky doesn’t want to wreck the moment, but he has to know. “But, you’re in love with me, right Steve? Who I am now? Not who I was then?” 

“Buck,” Steve sighs running his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “I’m in love with you. You, Bucky. I know you’re not who you used to be. I accepted that a while ago. I don’t see anybody else but who you are now. Okay?”

Bucky smiles softly and nods, pushing Steve back towards the couch into a sitting position. Bucky straddles Steve’s thighs, and plunges his tongue back into Steve’s mouth. They’ve done enough talking for today he thinks.

Steve starts kneading Bucky’s thighs, and this will all be over before it even starts if Steve continues to do that. Bucky thinks he should be embarrassed by that, but he’s really not. It’s been such a long time since anyone has touched him like this, and he didn’t know how much he needed it. Steve lays his hand on the small of Bucky’s back, and shoves them together, lining up their hips at just the right angle so their erections rub up against each other each time they move. Oh, he’s so good.

Bucky grips onto Steve’s hair with his left hand, yanks his head backwards, and latches his teeth onto the pulse point at Steve’s neck. He’s sucking hard enough to leave a mark for at least a few hours, given Steve’s body’s affliction for retaining any type of bruise, but he wishes it would last longer. So he’s a tiny bit possessive. Huh, he guesses he can chalk that up to another new thing he’s learned about himself. “God, Buck,” Steve says in a shaky moan, which makes Bucky grip his hair even harder.

Bucky thinks they’re both wearing too many clothes at this point, so he quickly disposes of his own shirt, and moves to rid Steve of his when Steve’s gentle grip on his wrists stops him. “Bucky, are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to regret…I just want you to be sure.” Bucky drags Steve’s face towards his, presses their foreheads together, and looks right into Steve’s eyes. “I’m sure Steve.”

After that, Steve’s ripping his own shirt off, and reaching towards Bucky’s pants. “Wait, Buck.” And Bucky is about to smack Steve. Does he need to say he’s sure in another language? Isn’t his obvious erection and the embarrassing way he’s grinding down on Steve’s lap enough of a sign that he wants this more than anything, right the fuck now?

“Bed,” is all Steve says, and oh, now Bucky understands. In one swift motion, he picks Bucky up off the couch, while Bucky winds his legs around his waist, and walks them towards Steve’s room, depositing Bucky none too gracefully on the bed. 

Steve is on Bucky in an instant, coaxing his mouth open for a kiss, while he slides his left hand down Bucky’s chest and plays with his nipples, leaving Bucky panting into his mouth. Steve follows the path his hands took with his lips, and mouths his way down Bucky’s chest, using his right hand to finally rid Bucky of his jeans. He slides Bucky’s underwear off next, and kisses a trail from his knee to his thigh, pausing extremely close to where Bucky really wants his mouth. “Steve, come on,” Bucky all but begs, smacking Steve’s sweaty shoulder. 

Steve finally shows him mercy, and Bucky’s back arches off the bed with one touch of Steve’s lips against his cock. Steve looks up at Bucky beneath hooded eyelids and takes Bucky into his mouth as deep as he can go, squeezing the base of Bucky’s cock with his hand to compensate for what he can’t. “Fuck.” Bucky grips the bedsheets tightly, certain he’s going to rip them, because Steve is showing him no mercy in this, sucking with abandon, like this is the last time he would do it. Steve runs his tongue over the underside of Bucky’s dick, and begins to suck again, going even deeper this time, and playing with Bucky’s balls with each stroke. Bucky can’t hold out much longer, so he pushes at Steve’s shoulders, and drags him up towards his mouth in a heated kiss. He slides his mouth along the hinge of Steve’s jaw, over to his ear and whispers in a wrecked voice, “Fuck me,” punctuating it by sucking Steve’s earlobe.

Steve lets out a groan, and scrambles over to his nightstand, retrieving the lube and condoms in a flash. “You sure Buck,” Steve asks once again, holding the bottle of lube in his hand. “Steve, I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me, I’m gonna do it myself.”

That was all the encouragement Steve needs. He slicks up his fingers, and gently slides one into Bucky’s body, waiting for him to adjust. Bucky’s mouth falls open, and he lets out a sound he didn’t even know he was capable of making. “More,” is all Bucky says, as Steve pushes in a second finger, hitching up Bucky’s legs a bit higher on his shoulders. Steve leans forward to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along Bucky’s jaw and neck, while Bucky runs a shaking hand through Steve’s hair. Steve continues fucking him with his fingers, making sure to stretch his fingers on the outstroke, so Bucky will really be ready for him. “Another Steve, come on, I can take it.” Steve pushes in a third finger, and Bucky lets out another guttural moan, worried he could come just from this, but he wants Steve inside him. He wants Steve inside him now.

“I’m ready Steve. Now.” Steve slips his fingers out of Bucky’s body, rolling on the condom and slicking it up. 

Steve plants his left hand beside Bucky’s head, and uses his right hand to guide his cock to Bucky’s entrance. He goes in achingly slow, leaving Bucky writhing in anticipation. When Steve’s thighs are flush against Bucky, he surges forward clacking their teeth together in a hard kiss. Steve bites down on Bucky’s lower lip, dragging it out slowly, and then soothing the small bite mark with a stroke of his tongue. “Steve, harder, please,” Bucky chokes out. Steve grips his hips and drives himself in faster, while Bucky drags his jagged fingernails over the expanse of Steve’s back. Steve fumbles a hand between them, and soon he’s jacking Bucky’s cock in time with his strokes, and it’s driving Bucky crazy. “Steve, I’m close,” he grunts out, as Steve pants into his neck. It takes one, two, three more strokes for Bucky to come all over them both, as he shouts out Steve’s name. Steve follows close behind, and his sweaty body collapses on top of Bucky’s for a moment, before he slides his softening cock out of Bucky’s body and drops on his side.

While Steve knots up the condom and throws it on the floor, Bucky is working on catching his breath because holy shit. He definitely wants to do that again. He gathers Steve up in his arms, and jostles him around until his head is resting under Bucky’s chin. Steve kisses the underside of Bucky’s jaw, and then settles back down.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely up for round two. I’m sure we can both be good to go in about, hmm, five minutes or so,” Bucky says as he rakes his fingers through Steve’s hair, pushing back his sweaty bangs from his forehead. Steve just chuckles, and grips onto Bucky’s side a bit tighter, now that his body isn’t so pliant anymore.

“I love you Bucky,” Steve sighs as he plants a kiss on Bucky’s chest. Bucky wishes he could say it back. He wishes it wasn’t so hard for him to say those three words, and he wasn’t lying to Steve when he said he was halfway in love with him already, because he was, it’s just gonna take him some time to get to where Steve is, he just hopes Steve understands. As if sensing his thoughts, Steve says, “It’s okay Buck. You don’t have to say it back.”

Steve lifts his head from Bucky’s chest so Bucky can see that he means what he says. He’s not hiding any hidden resentment or animosity. He’s willing to take this at Bucky’s pace. Steve brushes his thumb softly across Bucky’s cheekbone, and across his bottom lip, before leaning down to kiss him sweetly. Bucky looks up at him with what he could only describe as a positively dopey expression.

This was Bucky. Steadily falling even more in love with this idiot hovering above him, with laughter bubbling up in his chest, and a smile that could almost crack his face in half.

“God Rogers, look what you’ve done.” All because Steve made it so damn difficult not to love him. Again. Bucky was fighting a losing battle now, he knew, but it’s a battle he’s happy to lose.

**Author's Note:**

> Confession time: This is my first fic, and I hope it didn't show too badly. I decided to bite the bullet, and not only actually finish a fic, but post it, and I wanted my first fic to be for this fandom! Needless to say this is also my first time writing smut, and again I hope it was only moderately obvious instead of insanely obvious. Hopefully, I can only get better from here. 
> 
> Any comments and critique would be appreciated!


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